Passage to the Dark
by Judgey Fish Caretaker
Summary: "Do not prove yourself to be a fool, young Solo." Snoke's grave voice grates against Ben's conscience, sending shivers down his spine. He sighs, as if impatient with the young man's naivety. "You are in danger yet." - A series of drabbles exploring Ben Solo's journey from young boy to Kylo Ren. [pre-Sequel Trilogy] complete.
1. I

**A/N:** After writing _Inheritance_ , I really wanted to backtrack and explore Ben Solo's journey to the dark side and do this with a little bit different style of writing than you may have read in my previous fics. (If you haven't read them yet, what are you waiting for? They're all complete and ready for your enjoyment!) You'll recognize a small segment that has been pulled from that story, tweaked and adjusted, and used here too since I found it so enjoyable to write and it is what inspired me to write this fic!

Enjoy!

edit: SORRY if you received a notification for "DUSK". This is the same story, just was published completely incorrectly!

* * *

The darkness had always been there, deep inside him.

But now it is awake.

And Ben is afraid.

...

Before he is old enough to form the words, Ben is haunted by nightmares. Shadows, dark shapes, indiscernible whispers without a name. He is reduced to tears before he fully wakes, his parents at his side moments after the first distressing howl. His tiny fist reaches to grip the soft fabric of his mother's sleeve as she lifts him from his crib. It acts as an anchor in a tumultuous storm of darkness and fear he is unable to comprehend.

She holds him tightly against her chest, whispering sweet songs of comfort close enough for her lips to brush against his small ear with every other word. His father brings his calloused hand to Ben's dark hair, willing the nightmares away with each gentle stroke.

They don't place him down until he once again drifts into a soundless sleep.

They return to bed, neither of them now able to sleep themselves. Both are afraid to ask the question out loud.

 _What's wrong with our son?_

 _..._

A war zone is unfolding.

Toys are scattered throughout the Organa-Solo residence. Fezzgams and play blasters are haphazardly strewn across the floor while Ben's abandoned tooka doll lies underneath the caf table, as if to have taken shelter from the surrounding disaster. No sooner than Han comes from around the kitchen counter with a tray of small glasses filled - Port in a Storm, only the strongest - for their guests does their son make his grand entrance. A diaper clad Ben Solo rushes into the living room as fast as his toddling legs could carry him, squealing with delight as Leia's protocol droid helplessly chases after him. A holo of ewoks dancing, chirping and singing a mindless tune unintentionally provides the perfect background music for the chaotic scene.

"Master Ben!" T-2LC drones, Leia imagines his best attempt at shout. "You are not in proper attire to receive guests!"

Ben pays no mind and rushes towards the group already seated at the couch. Lando gives out a booming laugh while Chewbacca harmonizes with his own throaty snort. In a swoop of her arms, Leia lifts Ben from the ground and onto her lap. He wiggles and squirms in her grasp, desperate to run free.

Han finally joins them in the living room, careful to place the alcoholic beverages out of reach from the toddler onto the caf table. Sniffles and hiccups warn of an impending storm. "Ah, come on now, kid…" He coaxes while pulling his son from his wife's lap. With one arm secure around the struggling Ben's waist, he expertly reaches into his back pocket to reveal his beloved gold dice in the other hand. The sniffles and struggles halt and Ben is momentarily distracted by their glinting surface in the overhead light.

The conversation continues as T-2LC leaves the living room, defeated, with a pair of infant pajamas in hand. Han catches Leia's eyes from across the table as their guests participate in their own side banter.

Han gives his trademark grin. "See? We got this."

Leia tentatively smiles as she brought her glass to her lips. Her intuition tells her that moments like these are fleeting. She enjoys them cautiously.

...

Ben Solo has Skywalker blood running through his veins.

No sooner than he utters his first words he is able to harness the Force around him. Borgeballs and toys become solar systems and he is the star at its center. Giggling, eyes bright with elation.

Cookies and honeycrusts are soon locked down under his parents' ever-watchful eyes.

Han is indifferent to his son's newfound abilities. Leia grows wary.

...

Ben wants to be a pilot, just like his Dad.

Afternoons are spent mulling over texts and blueprints of toy models. The Incom T-65 X-Wing, Z-95 Headhunter, T-47 airspeeder, and finally, a bit of a bias passed down from Han, any ships constructed by the CEC. Chewbacca tries to be of some help with assembling some of the more complex models but is only successful in getting the tiniest pieces tangled in his hair.

Han swears to friends that Ben's hands reached for the steering shortly after he learned to walk and he could rattle off figures and statistics before he could recite the Basic alphabet. When Han talks about his young son, he beams with pride.

Ben is now able to reach for the dice himself through a delicate balancing act between the dashboard and captain's chair. Sometimes when alone in the cockpit, Ben climbs for them just to hold them in his hand for a moment. His thumb rubs against the engravings, enjoying the cool aurodium-plated surface at the tips of his fingers. Then with a tight squeeze of them in the palm of his hand, he gives his fist a small kiss before hurriedly returning them to their proper place overhead.

His father scoffs at superstitions gestures like these.

Ben wants all the luck he can get.

...

The nightmares still come.

In the light of day Ben feels safer but far from alone. They visit him in the form of shadows, remaining just out of sight and at the back of his heels. He never full sees them, for if he focuses on them for too long, they dissipate as though to hide their true nature from him. Just out of reach. He knows they're still there from the hairs that raise on the back of his neck in warning.

At night, he is consumed by these visions. Darkness, fear, destruction, pain.

But Ben feels he is too old to be seeking comfort from his parents in the middle of the night. He sinks his face into his pillow to muffle the screams and cries.

His turmoil does not go unnoticed by Leia in the mornings following a particularly restless evening. There is no hiding the dark purple hues that have replaced the once rosy cheeks of her pale son's face.

His eyes avoid her worried stare as he pretends to be engrossed in the dish placed in front of him. He eats breakfast in silence.

...

His mother has it. His uncle has it.

Ben stares down at his open palms. He's exhausted.

He's been told it's a gift. His mother assures him he'll be able to control in due time with the proper training. Uncle Luke will help you, she promises.

But he longs to be normal. A New Republic pilot one day, his future days spent in the cockpit of a starfighter. It could all be so simple if he wasn't so…different.

He didn't have time to practice a dated religion some place far away from Chandrila. Away from home. A bit of a loner, he already finds it difficult to make friends in school. His peers can sense something is strange about him, although they struggle to pin point exactly what. Children are the most intuitive but also the harshest of critics.

He closes his hands into fists, tightening his grip until his fingernails threaten to draw blood.

For Ben, it feels like a curse.

...

"Mom? Dad? I'm home." Ben calls out into their apartment as he enters through the front door. The setting sun's orange and red hues fill the empty living room space as it splays across the unoccupied couch and coordinated accent chairs.

This is no longer a rare scene in the Organa-Solo residence and is one Ben Solo has come to expect.

At the sound of his arrival, T-2LC bounds around the corner from the kitchen in a flurry. "Master Ben! Welcome home!" He proceeds to rattle on, taking no notice of Ben's silence. "Your father is off with Chewbacca on some job and he failed to specify what and where, which completely negates my purpose as a household organizational droid – not that he ever concerns himself with such protocol." LC huffs. "I can't say I'm too disappointed – that wookie leaves hair everywhere. Secondly, your mother wished for me to tell you that she will be held up in center city due to an extended meeting with Mon Mothma. They are preparing for negotiations between Populists and Centrists on Hosnian Prime taking place in the next few days." He gives a shake of his head, his gears slightly creaking at the motion. "I don't know how your mother does it, Master Solo! I could never be a politician, though one might argue I am fluent in _bantha fodder_ in addition to six million languages."

LC pauses after his profanity - not to catch his breath seeing he was a droid – as his wired eyes land on Ben Solo who is not budging. He is staring blankly at the empty couch.

"Master Solo? Why, you haven't even turned the light on!"

Seething and without uttering a word, Ben raises his hand at his side. A decorative vase beside the couch, a gift to Leia from another Populist senator's homeworld, hovers over the end table before suddenly crashing into the living room wall.

LC can only observe the shards of glass and porcelain strewn across the floor.

"Oh dear…"

...

Ben hears them behind their closed bedroom door at night.

His parents' muffled voices rise and fall, a crescendo of hushed whispers to passionate shouts.

There is no mistaking an argument.

There is no mistaking it is about him.

He sits a top his bed while listening, hugging his blanket over his knees. His mother now wears a constant expression of concern whenever she looks at him. His father remains stone-faced, the usual mischievous glint in his eyes seems to have all but vanished. He never asks Ben to accompany him on jobs aboard the Falcon anymore, although he seems to go on them more and more frequently.

He's avoiding home, he's avoiding Ben.

Ben's never felt so alone.

Chewbacca appears at the doorway of his room, announcing his presence with a low empathetic growl. Wearing a mournful look only a wookie could express, he walks slowly over to the bed to offer a furry hug to his co-pilot's only child. Ben accepts and buries his face into the gentle beast's matted fur. It's warm and scratches his cheeks. It's comforting.

Ben cannot tell parents that his nightmares have grown more frequent, the visions more vivid.

Hidden in wool of Chewbacca's thick coat, his tears freely fall.

...

It will be for the best, his mother assures him. His father silently stands at the doorway. He begrudgingly agrees with his wife, only because he doesn't know of any other way. He does not have the answer for his own son's turmoil. The heartbreak is etched in his features though never spoken out loud.

Trinkets and toy models of starships are placed away, discarded on the shelves of an abandoned childhood along with adolescent dreams of the future.

As if on queue, LC greets someone at the balcony door as Ben clicks his modest suitcase closed at the foot of his bed.

"Master Luke, so good to see you!"

After an exchange of brief conversations and pleasantries, his Uncle Luke guides Ben out onto the balcony with a firm hand placed on his back. Ben turns his head back to catch one final glimpse of his family standing at the door of the only home he's ever known. His mother, father, LC and Chewbacca are all there to see him off. Leia, still dressed in her senatorial best, clasps her hands in front of her. Her smile is encouraging though tightened as to not release the tears threatening to fall. Han stands beside her, his face stoic. Ben tries to catch his father's eye, one last pleading glance to not have him go. They don't budge and he and Uncle Luke finally reach the ship's loading ramp.

Ben hears Chewbacca's cries as the door closes behind them.

...

There are more like him.

They all don't look like him, however. Varying species that hail from all corners of the galaxy, the younglings' ages range from as young as five to early twenties. Their abilities and talents are just as diverse as their appearances.

Ben struggles to learn all their names, but they all know his.

Their reverence towards his uncle continues mystify him.

To him, Luke Skywalker has always been simply his uncle who visited his family's residence various holidays or gatherings.

In contrast, his peer students were raised on the legends of the illustrious Jedi Master Luke Skywalker in the form of bedtime stories and child's play amongst siblings and friends.

The expectation of his ancestry and the responsibility that it comes with weighs heavily on his gangly frame.

He's afraid of disappointing them.

...

Their days revolve around routine.

The routine is a comforting consistency as opposed to an oppressive mandate. Meals are eaten in the dining halls as a community. Sometimes, if the weather is nice, the young padawans are granted permission to take their lunch onto the rolling grass outside. Morning studies are often followed by physical training, including but not limited to mock saber duels.

A young Zabrak jousts his wood staff towards his Twi'lek opponent as the rest of the students in their age group watch on. The Twi'lek swiftly dodges his approach before dropping to the ground, only to swing her own staff at his knees. The unsuspecting Zabrak falls to his defeat, his weapon clattering onto the hard sand at his side.

The rest of the class politely claps as the Twi'lek regains her upright position, flipping her lekku casually behind her back. Rather than relishing the applause, she picks up her peer's staff along with her own and reaches out a free hand towards him. The Zabrak, with no hint of animosity, smiles up at her and gratefully accepts her gesture.

Luke Skywalker watches on with pride.

Ben finds he enjoys their time set aside for meditation most of all. The practice of quieting the mind and allowing the Force to freely flow through him puts his troubling thoughts at ease.

However, the voices return at night when he is most vulnerable, chipping away at his confidence and peace of mind as he sleeps.

 _Your family sees you as a burden._ They jeer. _They are happy to have rid themselves of you._

He misses his mother most of all.

...

 _"_ _No!"_ A small girl howls helplessly. _"Come back!"_

 _Who is she?_

Ben follows her desperate gaze up towards the blue sky, shielding his eyes with an arm just in time to see a small transport fire up its engines and make its final exit from the unfamiliar planet's atmosphere.

 _Where is he?_

He turns his head to face the young girl again. In simple tattered beige garments and wispy hair pulled back in loose knots, she does not acknowledge his sudden arrival. Her tear stained face's attention is divided only between the departing transport and the Crolute who has a tight grip on her small arm.

 _"_ _Quiet, girl!"_ It demands unkindly, ignoring her sobs.

 _Why are they leaving her?_

Before Ben can intervene, the oppressive light of the sun blinds him, becoming a flash of white as the girl's distressed cries grow louder.

 _"_ _Noooooo!"_

"NOOOOOOO!"

He awakes from the sound of his own voice screaming, echoing the young girl's final desperate plea. He gasps and gulps, clutching his bed sheets in an attempt to anchor himself in reality. He's once again inside his quarters at his uncle's training temple.

The girl, the desert planet, the rumble of the ship's engines - it all felt so real.

The sickly feeling of abandonment that pools in the bottom of his stomach also feels familiar.

The haunting sound of her voice still reverberates in his ears. His eyes still sting from the bright flash of light. Once he catches his breath, Ben shakily raises his hand to wipe the sweat off his face but pauses as his fingers reach his cheek.

Amongst the beads of sweat gathered on his cheeks, there are grains of fine sand.

...

No one says anything to Ben, but they don't have to. He knows they have all heard.

His peers are careful to avoid him in recreational spaces and the dining hall. The only time he is acknowledged by them is during dueling practice, where he is always the last to be selected as a partner. Most meals Ben now spends sitting alone. He was never the most social amongst the students, but the isolation this news brings is oppressive.

Darth Vader, the most feared and destructive being in this galaxy's history, is his grandfather.

His mother and Uncle Luke's father, to be exact. With tensions rising between populists and centrists, the exposure of the dark truth was undoubtedly intended to slander Leia Organa's honor and lifetime dedication to the Republic. Although Ben should wonder how is mother was faring in all of this, he did not have much time to. Despite his Uncle Luke's best attempt to shield his nephew from the news, images of the past Sith lord and his mother are splayed across every HoloNet imaginable, to every corner of the galaxy. Not even his remote Jedi training temple was safe from the scandal.

Uncle Luke attempts to reach out, but Ben is quick to reject his advances. He knew, just as his parents did yet Ben discovered this terrible family secret along with the rest of the entire galaxy. His lineage is scrutinized by the public – and worse, his peers – and Ben suffocates under the weight.

He was deceived by those who were closest to him. There is no one to turn to now.

Ben is numb.

...

The voice return at night, as it has always done since Ben could remember. It has slowly morphed in time from shadows at the back of his mind in the form of faceless nightmares into a single entity. One voice now reigns. It soothes his fears, whispers words of encouragement; it assures him that he is far more than worthy of the respect his fellow students fail to give him.

 _Ben Solo will do great things_ , it hisses. _Your parents, your uncle, all just fear your power. That is why you were sent away, abandoned. They wish to control what they do not understand._ Ben Solo cannot be controlled.

Ben Solo will be the most powerful being the galaxy has ever known.

He falls asleep to a sweet, sickly lullaby of affirmation.

The voice now has a name.

Snoke.

And Snoke promises him many things.

* * *

 **A/N:** A little different writing style than I normally do, but I'm enjoying it so far! Looking for it to be a two part story, as I often do, but I'll see where this takes me!

As always, let me know what you think! For complete fics, feel free to browse my profile.

XOX Rose


	2. II

**A/N:** Wow! Well, that took long enough! Hopefully these series of drabbles are worth the wait.

* * *

Snoke's voice fuels him by day.

Once timid and gangly, Ben now duels against his opponents with might and aggression. His fellow classmates watch on, gawking, as he takes down a broad Nautolan with an overhead stroke to the collar. The Nautolan falls back onto the ground, crushing his green tentacles beneath his weight. Ben victoriously saunters off without so much of a glance at his opponent while other students rush to his aide as he struggles to find his footing.

The skilled Twi'lek throws a glare over her shoulder at Ben's back, whipping her pale green leukku dangerously behind her. Her mouth forms a thin line at him before returning her attention back to her injured peer.

Luke Skywalker watches on silently, but his dark eyebrows drawn in disapproval say more than sort of scolding could. Ben ignores him. He walks past his uncle and off the dueling grounds without so much another word. Some students watch on in awe of his sudden boldness. A few seem even impressed.

Pity, Ben muses inwardly. The Jedi way will only get them so far.

…

The HoloNets report of unspeakable acts of violence raging throughout the far reaches of the galaxy.

There is unrest in the regions of the Outer Rim. Reports speak of the rising influence of criminal militia in these territories, funded by illegal spice trading. Longtime cartels that were once forced off the map are boldly reappearing from the shadows. The schism between Centrists and Populists within the New Republic grows wider, allowing chaos to surface in its wake.

Snoke whispers to Ben the strength of Darth Vader, how the galaxy fell into line under his black-gloved fist. This New Republic will fracture into anarchy, he vows. The galaxy needs a strong central leader, one that is not deterred by the daunting task of asserting order across the systems.

His mother is narrow sighted, blinded by faith in a failed bureaucracy. His uncle was too weak to join Ben's grandfather in his mission to bring order to the galaxy. Luke Skywalker's lies of what the great Sith lord's last words were only an attempt to tarnish his legacy.

 _He will destroy you_. Snoke promises. _Once understands your full potential._

Snoke is neither Jedi nor Sith, but he is certainly wise in the ways of the Force.

…

"You. Vader kid."

Snapping out of a daze, Ben looks up from his bunn and eggs. He discovers one of his peers standing across the table he occupies alone, as he has done now for months.

The student's name is Kral, a privileged boy from Coruscant with slicked back gold hair and an expression of permanent pomposity. Ben has overheard Master Luke lecture him countless times on the dangers of succumbing to pride but these lessons are mostly lost on the young Jedi. There are two others who stand at his side. A slender female human from Jelucan with chopped hair as dark as Ben's and deep green eyes. The other is a young Zabrak with sharp brown horns and black facial markings, typical of the species. Ben recognizes them as some of the training temple's most promising students in athleticism. They are some of the fiercest fighters, though their techniques are a bit unorthodox.

Kral is the only one to speak.

"How did you learn to fight like that?"

Ben slowly shifts his attention to his side to where his uncle sits at the far end of the dining hall, unassuming and absorbed in one of his old texts. He then returns his eyes forward. They stand there, all dressed in their student robes, silent with anticipation.

Ben hardly recognizes the voice that leaves his lips.

"Not from a Jedi."

…

Snoke's whispers are now filled with sudden urgency.

 _This cannot continue._ He warns. _Any longer and a new Jedi Order will rise, one that is more corrupt and hungry for power than its predecessor._

Ben grits his teeth in frustration. What does Snoke expect of him, a mere student of the Force? "I need more _time_." He counters under his breath. A small part of him is hesitating, biding more time as he is still uncertain of his uncle's intent. After all, he is still family.

 _Do not prove yourself to be a fool, young Solo_. Snoke's grave voice grates against Ben's conscience, sending shivers down his spine. _You may have found allies amongst you but they will be unable to protect you against the ill will of a Jedi Master._ He sighs, as if impatient with the young man's naivety. _You are in danger yet._

Ben withholds an answer and rolls over to his side on the thin mattress. It is not until he feels Snoke's presence withdraw for the evening does he let a single tear escape down his cheek.

…

A letter sits on his nightstand amongst writing utensils and his lightsaber, untouched. The parchment envelope is addressed to him in his mother's familiar, flowery handwriting, undoubtedly filled with words of comfort, apology, and regret.

Maybe, Ben imagines, even answers.

For a moment, Ben's hand impulsively reaches out towards the closed envelope. His hand hovers only briefly over his pen and ink before he ultimately withdraws it.

Now is not the time.

…

Visions continue to haunt him at night as they have always done.

There is pain and anguish, but Ben is no longer its victim. He draws from its intensity, manipulating it to act on behalf of his will. He has never experienced power like this before.

But, this power comes with great cost. As far as his mind's eye can see there is fire, destruction, and death. His victims are faceless, unidentifiable in his rage and the dim glow of his saber. He pays them little mind while reveling in his newfound abilities.

His skills are unmatched - he is the master now.

His mind roars with flames.

Then, only darkness.

…

Snoke is right.

An abrupt hum of an ignited saber wakes Ben from his slumber. Disoriented and confused by the unexpected presence, Ben turns himself onto his back. The scene that unfolds before him makes his blood run cold.

His uncle, the honorable Jedi Master Luke Skywalker, is poised over him. His stance is on that is predatory, the composure of a man waiting to attack. The green of his saber highlights his aged features, giving a new monstrous allure of a face Ben hardly recognizes.

How even the Mighty fall.

Adrenaline kicks and Ben instinctively beckons his own saber into his hand. There is a sudden collision of blue and green, a violent struggle for survival. The crackle and sparks of their clashing light reflects in his uncle's eyes. They shine not only with determination but also fear.

But there is something else. Ben observes the image of a young boy in their glossy reflection: weak, inferior, and afraid. A victim.

No, Ben decides. This is not how it will end.

He raises his free hand towards the ceiling.

 _Ben, no!_

What was that in his voice? Regret? Ben cannot afford any hesitation with only having seconds to act. Ignoring his uncle's shouts, the ceiling of his room is crushed at the mere clench of his fingers. They are both buried underneath its splintered ceiling and rubble.

This is only the beginning.

…

It's finished.

The air smells of smoked wood and singed grass. Debris and embers swirl around Ben as he observes the aftermath of their labor. Unforgiving flames consume the decimated remains of the central temple, illuminating the night sky with their smoldering blaze.

"Hey, boss."

Ben's attention shifts towards Kral as he emerges from a group of crumbled student quarters. He gestures behind him with his ignited blade, the yellow hue bouncing off the charred pillars behind him. "There's some stuff over here that might be worth taking a look at before we head out of here."

A few others enter Ben's peripheral with their light sabers drawn, including Kral's comrades the Zabrak and young human woman. Ben realizes they are awaiting further orders. Without uttering a word, he nods and they follow Kral to scavenge the wreckage. Ben moves to follow but a bright shape catches the corner of his eye.

A familiar pair of lekku are splayed across the burnt grass from behind a cluster of large stones. He starts to walk towards them before a voice halts him in his tracks.

 _It is done._ He can hear the satisfaction reverberating in Snoke's voice. It oddly does not provide Ben any comfort. _Come to me immediately. Bring the others._

Obediently, he alters his course to collect the remaining students of the fallen temple.

Ben's attempt to wipe the image of the motionless lekku from his memory is in vain.

…

The recycled air aboard the ship is unexpectedly frigid.

An ominous guard stands in front of the turbolift at the end of the hall, its faceless red garb giving way to its menacing presence. Either as an act of bravery or foolish naivety, Ben walks ahead of his six new comrades as they approach. Before he can move to open his mouth, the guard steps aside as if prompted by some unseen cue.

After a silent ride up, the door slides open to reveals a vast room of black paneled floors and red walls. On the far end of the room sits a man, his gold threaded robes a stark contrast to the black throne he sits upon. A sudden wave of energy pierces through Ben, thrumming through the entirety of his being. He knows this is Snoke, the wise sage of the Force he seeks.

However, as he and his band continue across the sleek floor, there becomes a growing divide between the velvety voice of the man who provided guidance and soothed Ben's innermost fears through his adolescence and the man who oversees this throne room. In fact, Snoke does not appear to be a man at all. The closer they approach, the more distorted his appearance becomes. Gnarled, deformed, a steady transition from a man to a monster.

Ben involuntarily shudders at the sight. This was not at all what he had envisioned.

They pause a few paces away from the foot of the looming throne. Ben feels the hesitation of the others who stand just behind him.

"Come closer, young Solo."

Ben steps ahead, further away from comfort of solidarity amongst his alliances. As if only natural, he discovers himself lowering himself reverently onto one knee.

"You've done exceedingly well, young Solo." Snoke commends, silkily. "Luke Skywalker is dead, ensuring that the seed of the Jedi Order is no longer." He pauses. Eyes remaining downward, Ben imagines that he is gesturing to those behind him. "They have also served us well. You will all be handsomely rewarded."

Despite Snoke being undoubtedly pleased by their favorable outcome, Ben is unable to meet his gaze. To look ahead was to accept this fate. For so long he had sought approval from his peers, his parents – especially that of his father. He swallows hard, rolling his jaw in thought. What would he think of him now?

"It's time to continue your training, to abandon the past and fully embrace your destiny." Snoke releases a raspy breath. His next words are a command, heavy with significance.

"Rise, _Kylo Ren_."

Without a word, Kylo Ren obeys his new master.

…

Days blur together. Weeks turn to months.

The last Jedi have all but fallen. He and his knights scour the systems for the remaining, following the leads of selfish friends and neighbors who are intimidated by their agenda in hope that their own lives will be spared from their wrath.

Their reputation proceeds them, spreading fear and dread throughout the galaxy under the persecution of their red sabers.

Snoke is pleased with their progress.

…

Kylo Ren is summoned to Snoke's throne room alone after one evening's venture, leaving the others to wait outside.

"You have exceeded my expectations, my young apprentice." Snoke begins slowly while Ren takes his customary knee before him.

"I am pleased to have gained your confidence." His apprentice responds evenly, his voice distorted and unrecognizable by the mask he now adjourns. Its expressionless meld of chrome and dark metal compliments his attire of black garments and a long cloak, providing him with the intended allure of being both mysterious and menacing to his subordinates. For meeting likes these, though he would never admit, Ren is appreciative of his appearance's concealing nature. It allows him the smallest bit of distance from the man who gives orders from the comfort of his throne.

In his moments of weakness, it also grants distance between Kylo Ren and himself.

Snoke steadily lifts himself up from his seated position, the skin over his knotted knuckles taut and white as he grips the armrests' hard surface for balance. One who was unfamiliar with this elder's unworldly abilities would surely have a false sense of superiority by the mere sight of him.

"The remnants of the Jedi Order are extinct by the hand of the Knights of Ren. Uprisings quenched, rebellions chased away." Snoke raises a single hand, closing it into a clawed fist. "Fear will keep the systems in line, I assure you." He takes a few steps closer, closing the space between himself and his kneeled apprentice. "Order is within our grasp."

Ren's skin prickles at his master's close proximity. He does not speak.

Snoke pays no mind to his silence. "You are truly the making of a new Vader." He praises before slowly turning on his heel back towards his throne. "However, we gain security by not only defeating what we know to be the enemy, but all those who have the potential to threaten our power. The Sith were wise in their ways." He pauses for emphasis. "There can only be two."

Kylo Ren raises his head ever so slightly, his vacant stare now fixes on his master.

"You know what must be done." Snoke drawls, lowering himself onto his throne. "Go."

"Yes, Master."

As to not give his master any allusion of hesitation, he promptly lifts himself from his kneeled position and proceeds to throne room's exit. His purposeful steps match his increasing heartbeat.

The sliding door of the turbolift opens to the Knights of Ren patiently waiting for his return, their armor in varying states of undress after a long day. Two are sitting on the ground recuperating, their backs against the black panels of the hall while the others chat casually amongst themselves. The usual Praetorian Guard is nowhere in sight. With Ren's arrival, Kral concludes his conversation with the sharp-eyed, raven-haired woman to address him. Ren observes through his own helmet that the both of them, including a few others, have already shed theirs for the evening.

"So what now, Boss?"

Kylo Ren does not say a word. He merely responds with the activation of his saber, its sinister crackling red light filling the dimly lit hall.

He is too quick for the others.

…

It's quiet; the darkness is familiar years of being haunted by his dreams.

But this silence is different - a type of stillness that has never existed in the tumultuous storms of his nightmares before.

Ren is alone in a shadowy hall. In his uneasiness, his hands reach for his waist but he finds no weapon there. In fact, his attire resembles that of the beige and white garb he was required to by the Temple.

He has little time to dwell on this observation. A hushed whisper floats down the hall; its words indiscernible but direct his eyes towards the end of it. A small wooden chest sits alone on the stone floor, basked in the flow of a single point of light overhead. Ren's senses thrum with anticipation – he needs whatever is inside.

He steps to advance it but is abruptly lurched backwards down the hall in a fury. Ren's efforts to advance against the unseen force are ineffective. The chest grows smaller and smaller and eventually out of sight as the hall passes by him in a blur.

Without warning, his body jerks to a stop.

He is momentarily blinded by a bright sun, his eyes struggle to observe his new surroundings. Now he's on an island. The lush grass soft against his feet and he can taste the salty sea air that sticks onto his skin from the crashing waves below. He's never been to this island before, but he knows it. Somehow.

A hooded figure stands a distance away on the edge of cliff, their back in Ren's direction. The thrumming returns. Disoriented, he moves forward only to lose his footing from an unseen drop below his feet.

He falls. The sound of the waves howls in his ears as he plunges downwards into the deep chasm. The light of the sun fades, the surface of the island far beyond his reach. He's swallowed by darkness, bracing himself for an impact that never comes.

Ren awakes with a gasp for air, clutching at his sides for anything that may steady him. His hands are met with twisted bed linens, strewn around him haphazardly from his night terror. They are damp to the touch. His first thought is the humid air of the island until he sits up, becoming aware of how the sheets cling onto the thin film of sweat on his bare chest and forearms. His pillow has been knocked over onto the ground.

He shivers as the ship's cool air touches his clammy skin. His nightmares are becoming more detailed, more vivid.

Something unimaginable was to happen.

…

 _Some years later_

…

Kylo Ren stares at a lit console onboard the Finalizer. Its blinking red and orange lights and shimmering blue screens provide no solutions for his current predicament.

His plan has been foiled, thwarted by a smug Resistance pilot and his pet droid. The BB unit, and the critical information it carried, had slipped right through his gloved fingers despite their command of military strength. He grips his hand at his side to quell the swelling rage rising inside of him. General Hux is undoubtedly pleased by this turn of events, as he often is concerning any one of Kylo Ren's failures. One does not have to read minds to know Hux's absolute displeasure with Ren's influence amongst the First Order's operation. To Hux, power and order are achieved by calculating and cunning minds, not an extinct mystical religion.

The Resistance is becoming more daring with their crossings against the First Order. Regardless of Ren's aversion to the priggish general, he would be a fool to deny Hux's clear expertise in military strategy he showcases at their round tables with the upper ranks. At these meetings, Ren is appreciative of disconnected presence the mask allows him. Despite years of dedicated training under his master, he is uncertain of his expression at the sound of his mother's name when associated with the murderers and thieves she considers friends.

There is no denying that recently Ren's work has been sloppy, though he would never acknowledge this openly with those he oversees – especially Hux. He is distracted and it shows. Snoke senses it. There is conflict within him, ever-present turmoil raging inside. His visions at night have become more disconcerting and frequent, adding to his already increasing distress. It is as though his defense is being chipped away, a splintering of his soul that allows light to seep through its cracks. He is being torn apart. Snoke warns his dark apprentice of his equal in the light rising, which is why it is imperative to find the BB unit that carries the map to Luke Skywalker.

 _Luke._ His uncle and former master, thought to have been murdered by his hands on that fateful night at the temple, lives. Only by the Jedi Master's demise, Snoke promises, will Kylo Ren finally succeed in controlling his fate and fully embrace the dark side. It will be the end of the Jedi once and for all.

Ren's pensive reverie is broken by an additional presence joining him in the control room. He needs not to turn around to confirm the individual's discomfort, more than likely the most unfortunate amongst his fellow colleagues who has been selected to share some disappointing news with the Supreme Leader's right hand man.

A hard swallow joins the hum and beeps emitted from the surveillance console.

Lieutenant Mitaka speaks cautiously "Sir, we were unable to acquire the droid from Jakku." Imbeciles. Go on. "It escaped onboard a stolen Corellian YT model freighter."

"The droid…" Ren slowly turns towards the officer. A mixture of impatience and fury simmers just below the surface; its delivery is unsuccessfully masked by an even tone. "...stole a freighter?"

Mitaka's pallid features maintain their composure but the sharp hitch of his heartbeat and throbbing vein in his neck, constrained by the rigid collar of his uniform, informs Kylo Ren otherwise. "We have no confirmation but we believe that FN-2187 might have helped in the escape-"

That was enough. Ren's saber ignites from its hilt before allowing the last pitiful words to expel from Mitaka's mouth. The lieutenant flinches from what he assumes to be a swift execution - but he is not the victim today. The erratic blade sweeps past Mitaka in one fluid motion to meet the console in an eruption of sparks and broken glass. Simply one strike is not sufficient and Ren engages in a series of swings and clashes until he is left satisfied with the wreckage of shattered screens and red-hot bleeding metal.

He disengages his weapon before nonchalantly glancing over his shoulder, a hint of mocking. How much more can he be let down today? "Anything else?"

Mitaka hesitates, letting the regrettable words rest on his tongue before speaking. He looks as though he may vomit. "The two were accompanied by a girl."

A _girl._

An island, enveloped in the waves of an ocean.

A cryptic whisper.

A blazing sun. The blistering surface of hot sand.

A young girl's distant scream, mirrored by the familiar cries of a boy.

As quickly as they form, the memories disappear in a blinding flash of pure white light.

Kylo Ren returns to the present, his gloved fingers are wrapped around the unfortunate neck of his subordinate as he struggles and gasps for air.

His delivers his next question in a menacing snarl. His words hang heavy in the air, as though the cosmos are aware of their significance before even he understands.

"What _girl_?!"

…

 _There's been an awakening. Have you felt it?_

The light has always been there, deep inside him.

But now it is awake.

And Kylo Ren is afraid.

* * *

the end

* * *

 **A/N:** I struggled with going back and forth as to where I wanted this to end, but this seemed like the perfect moment to conclude Ben's journey to the dark before just retelling the entire movies as we've seen. I hope you enjoyed your short visit to my head canon for Kylo Ren until IX reveals more of the galaxy's secrets! (SO EXCITED FOR ALL THE IX NEWS SO FAR!)

As always - please let me know what you think if you care to drop a note! I feel like I owe myself a fluff piece soon - my stories have been so angsty!

XOX

Rose


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